


Skera

by renlem



Series: Stjarnavetr [5]
Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bloodplay, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Knifeplay, Lingerie, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7411039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renlem/pseuds/renlem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being the mistress of a prince means you’re no stranger to sex—especially if that prince is Loki. Stjarnavetr has been Prince Loki’s mistress for a little over a decade now and even though she is somewhat accustomed to the more eccentric sides of sex, there are still some things which she has never experienced, things that Loki is all too eager to explore with her.</p><p>(This one shot takes place somewhere between Parts I and II.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skera

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This one shot features knife play and some blood play

Stjarnavetr

I lay on my stomach, head resting on my crossed arms. I could hear Loki moving on the bed behind me, could feel him crawling up my body and lightly kissing my skin as he went. I smiled as I felt his lips on the back of my legs, the curve of my buttocks, the little dimples in my lower back, and then up my spine until he settled onto me and turned his head to kiss my cheek. He slipped his arms under my body and rolled onto his side, pulling me with him. I held onto him and turned my head to look at him.

“What are you doing, Loki?” I asked.

He kissed the side of my mouth and whispered, “Are you finished already?”

I laughed quietly and turned in his arms to nestle against him. “Yes, I do believe you’ve worn me out.”

Loki chuckled and tightened his embrace, allowing me to lie limply in his arms. He gently stroked my back, letting his long fingers drift over my skin, and we lay there for a long time in this comfortable silence. I could have very easily fallen asleep like this, even though it was still morning and we had not even had breakfast yet.

There were some days when I did not wish to do anything and begged Loki if we could stay in his rooms—today was one of those days, and especially after such exhaustive lovemaking.

“Stjarna?” Loki murmured after a while.

“Hmm?”

“I want to ask you something.”

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“I want to try something new,” he admitted, placing a kiss on my brow. 

I cracked my eyes open and grinned. “What, do I bore you now?”

He shook his head, appearing amused. “No. It is just you’re much more easily convinced when you’re sleepy like this.”

“So was this your plan all along?” I laughed.

Loki smirked. “Perhaps.”

I never knew what to expect with Loki. Though we had been lovers for well over a decade now, he still somehow managed to come up with new ways to invigorate our love life. But then again, they were really only new to me—my time with Valdrlund could not have been called adventurous in any way, and Loki had been doing this sort of stuff much longer than me. I was grateful at least that he spaced it out instead of dropping all of it on me at once.

“So what is it?” I asked with a yawn. 

Suddenly, Loki seemed hesitant. He trailed his fingers up and down my bare arm, letting his nails lightly scrape my skin. “I want to use something…”

I waited.

“Knives,” he breathed.

I pulled back to stare at him, my drowsiness nearly completely dissipated. “What?”

Did he say knives?

“Knives,” he repeated, but a little quieter this time.

“For what?” I inquired in alarm.

“It can increase the pleasure,” Loki explained, sensing my averseness. “We could use one of my throwing knives—”

“How?” I demanded. “What would you even do with them?”

“Just run them along the skin, perhaps cut an article of clothing off. You could do it to me, too.”

The very thought of Loki having a knife in his hand while we made love both surprised and horrified me. Why would we need that, anyway? How would that increase anything but apprehension?

Loki laughed, somewhat uneasily. “Would you not at least like to try it?”

I shook my head, unsure.

He smiled playfully and leaned forward to kiss the side of my neck. “Don’t you trust me, darling?”

“Yes, but…”

“Wouldn’t you try it just once?”

I paused, but did not wish to ignore the nagging in the back of my mind.

“No,” I finally whispered.

Loki’s face fell, but he nodded. “Very well. Forget I said anything.”

After a moment, Loki pulled away and I watched him as he disappeared into his bath chamber. I heard the water running as he drew a bath and sighed, feeling this odd mixture of remorse and disappointment. I lay in the bed for a while, staring at the ceiling and thinking. 

Ultimately my curiosity got the best of me and I slipped out of bed, pulled on a robe, and walked over to one of Loki’s chests, where there sat a long, flat wooden box on top. I flipped the latch and slowly opened it. This was where Loki kept his throwing knives when he did not carry them on him. 

I stared at the knives, all resting on a bed of dark red silk, for a long moment before reaching down to touch one. They were pretty little things, I thought, though I had personally seen them do great damage. The blades were shiny and polished, and the handles were black and featured intricate, knotwork engraving. I lifted one of the knives out of the box and gently ran my fingertip over the edge of the blade, trying to imagine Loki using it on me. I envisioned him holding it between his fingers, cutting open my clothes, trailing it along my skin, and I felt a prickle of unease, but also, oddly and alarmingly enough, something like this subdued excitement.

I must have been standing there for a long time, lost in my thoughts, for eventually I heard a sound and turned to see Loki standing in front of his wardrobe, going to open it up. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, saw me holding one of his knives, and his lips twitched upwards in a smile. I quickly looked away and put the knife back into its box while he pulled on a pair of black pants and a green tunic.

I stood there unsurely while Loki dressed, and once he was finished, he crossed the room and came to stand behind me. He slipped his arms under mine and picked out the knife I had just been holding. He held it up for me and I tentatively opened my hand and he laid it on my palm.

“Why?” I asked quietly, closing my fingers over it.

He was silent for a long time and then finally confessed, “It is something I have found I like.”

I wondered how he could have possibly discovered he liked using knives during lovemaking, but did not reply.

“We would stop if you did not like it,” he assured, turning his head to kiss my jaw.

“What would you do?” I murmured.

“Tease you, mostly,” he smirked. 

“You would not cut me?”

He laughed quietly and then answered in a low, sultry voice, “Only if you wanted it.” 

My heart sped up. “No, no…”

He chuckled again.

“You want this?” I breathed, lifting the knife to study the way the light reflected off the silver.

“Yes,” he responded softly. “I want to try it with you.”

I stood there for a long while, staring at the knife. It was apparent that Loki badly wanted this and I did feel some remorse for having so quickly denied him. Despite my concern, however, I knew that Loki would not hurt me and would stop if I wished him to. So why was I so averse to the idea?

Finally I whispered, “Yes, Loki. I will try it.”

He grinned and kissed me on the cheek. “Tonight?”

My voice rose in pitch. “Tonight?”

He nodded and pulled me closer. “Yes.”

I gave a little nod, acquiescing to him. “Alright…”

“You are so wonderful, Stjarna,” he said, giving me another kiss before releasing me to finish getting ready. I laid the knife down and began to also prepare for the day, hoping the entire time that I had not been too hasty in my decision.

I was incredibly nervous the entire day, for all I could think of was tonight.

Some part of me was terrified, but regardless of my initial reservation, another part of me was almost excited. I blamed Loki. The longer I was with him, seemingly the more open I was to things of this nature. It had not always been so—I remembered earlier in our relationship it had always taken him a fair amount of cajoling to get me to do anything remotely salacious with him, but always afterwards when I was lying spent and satisfied in his arms, he would kiss me and say was I not lucky that I had him to urge me into these sorts of things.

That was some small comfort to me and so I was determined to at least try this for him. 

Finally, the time came. When I arrived at Loki’s chambers that night after dinner, he was up waiting for me as always. He sat in front of his fireplace, idly twirling one of his throwing knives between his long fingers, and when I entered the room he turned his head to look at me. He smiled, exposing the points of his teeth, and it was not a loving or even friendly smile, but on the verge of predatory, and I felt a stab of what could only be described as a disquieting combination of excitement and fear.

Loki said my name, stood up, and came towards me. I tore my eyes away from the knife in his hand, hoping once again that I had not been too impulsive in agreeing to this, and looked up at him as he came to stand before me. He took my chin between his fingers and lifted my face so he could kiss me.

“I’ve been thinking,” he murmured, and I felt my stomach tighten in apprehension. He appeared amused at my expression, which must have betrayed my worry, and continued, “I want you to wear one of your shifts.”

I relaxed just a little—that was not so bad. I remembered he had mentioned cutting clothes and I would rather have sacrificed one of my shifts than my dress. I kissed him back and replied, “Give me a moment.”

I went to one of my chests Loki kept here and rummaged through the clothes inside. I picked one of my shifts out, kept it hidden from him, and flashed him a smirk before entering his bath chamber. When the door was shut behind me, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself. Once I felt more at ease, I changed, brushed my hair out, and went back out.

Loki was slowly pacing by the foot of the bed and glanced up when I opened the door. When he smiled at me, I could not help my own smile.

Ever since I had had that first shift made as a sort of gift for Loki, he had commissioned a dozen more to be made, all in different colors and styles. He loved them even more than me and they never failed to excite him. This particular shift was his favorite—it was dark green, not diaphanous like some of the others, and edged with black lacework. The hem only reached the middle of my upper thigh, but had two slits up the sides which exposed the paleness of my skin. 

The look on Loki’s face helped to alleviate my fears and it was only then when I noticed he was no longer holding the knife. He had put it on the bedside table and when he saw me eyeing it, he laughed softly. 

“Not yet,” Loki whispered, and I relaxed as he walked up to me. He put one hand on the side of my neck, lifted my head up, and leaned down to kiss me on the mouth. I rested one hand on his arm, the other on his side, and opened my mouth to deepen the kiss. I ran my tongue along his and smiled when he wrapped one arm around me to pull me close.

As we kissed, I grabbed Loki’s hand and brought it down over my chest until it covered my left breast. He cupped me through the thin fabric, let his thumb brush over my hardening nipple, and I let slip a pleased little moan into his mouth. Loki grinned against my lips and squeezed harder before allowing his hand to drift even lower towards the apex of my thighs.

I guided Loki’s hand and moaned again when his fingers slipped beneath the hem of my shift and into the wetness pooling between my legs. I broke the kiss, letting my mouth fall open, and Loki licked my lips. I pressed my face into his chest and began to quietly pant as he touched and stroked me in that leisurely, deliberate way of his.

I gripped the fabric of Loki’s sleeve and leaned into him. I felt him reach up with his other hand to tangle his fingers in my hair and pull back on it, lifting my head. My eyes fluttered open as he leaned down to capture my lips in another heady kiss. My breath hitched when he slipped a finger inside me, simultaneously letting the heel of his hand brush against my nub, and I lifted up on my tiptoes, tightening my grip on his shirt.

“Loki,” I gasped, and suddenly his fingers were gone from between my legs and I exclaimed in displeasure. He reached up, took my jaw in his hand, and I felt a rivulet of heat course through my body and straight to the spot between my legs with how fiercely he was looking at me. So quickly could Loki change his demeanor like this, but it never failed to arouse me.

“Get on the bed,” Loki commanded, and the desire bubbling in my lower half flared.

I pulled away from Loki and went obediently to his bed. I crawled onto it, making sure to let Loki get a good glimpse of my backside when I bent over. Once in the middle, I turned and sat, legs spread slightly—not enough to show him anything, but enough to hopefully entice. 

I regarded Loki keenly as he came in after me. I opened my legs wider so he could settle between them and draped my arms around the back of his neck as he leaned down to press against me. He threaded his long fingers into my hair as he kissed me deeply, pushing his tongue against mine and running it eagerly through my mouth.

As we kissed, I grabbed two fistfuls of Loki’s shirt and tugged at it. Loki broke the kiss, quickly helped me to pull his shirt off, and then fell back over me when it was discarded over the side of the bed, resuming with his hungry kisses. I ran my hands over his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath, and dug my nails into his skin when he nudged his hips against me.

When Loki turned his head and began to pepper kisses over my neck and the top of my shoulder, I let my head fall blissfully to the side. It was then when my eyes were involuntarily drawn to Loki’s throwing knife laying complacently on the bedside table. I let out a spontaneous little whimper, having somehow almost forgotten about it, but Loki swiftly—and undoubtedly purposefully—detracted my attention. 

He began moving down my body, leaving burning kisses over my collarbones and chest. I arched my back when Loki tugged at the low collar of my shift and exposed one of my breasts. He closed his lips over my nipple and a lilting moan fell from my parted lips as he sucked and bit at me. His free hand descended down to my hip and slipped beneath the hem of my shift. He reached up under the slippery fabric and cupped my other breast, lightly pinching and rolling my hardened nipple between his long, skillful fingers.

When my breasts were sore from his ministrations, and I nearly writhing beneath him and panting for this empty aching between my legs, Loki resumed his leisurely journey down my body. I propped myself up on my elbows and watched as he invariably made his way down. He pushed my shift up until it was bunched around my waist and let his hands come to rest on the tops of my thighs.

Loki’s pale green gaze held mine as his mouth descended between my legs and I let out a satisfied breath when I felt his lips on me, felt his tongue teasingly graze the bud at the top of my sex. I curled my toes as I watched the top of Loki’s head and the slight movements he kept making as he used his mouth on me. I reached down with one arm and ran my fingers through his lanky black hair, smiled when I heard him softly groan. 

My eyes fluttered closed and allowed my head to fall back, mouth wide open and body taut with delight. With every languorous flick of his tongue, Loki sent a bolt of pleasure through my body, causing me to squirm a little beneath him. I lifted my hips into his mouth and grinned elatedly when he licked me, as if savoring me, and pushed his tongue inside, inching me ever closer to that edge.

Fairly soon I was loudly panting. I had both hands on top of Loki’s head, fingers curled tightly in his hair. My entire body was warm and thrumming with pleasure; my insides were trembling, my muscles quivering, all hinting towards my release, and I was so impatiently anticipating it, so eagerly rising towards it.

And then, just as I could feel myself on the edge, just as I gasped Loki’s name and tightened my fingers in his hair, feeling it trembling inside, Loki pulled back.

My eyes flew open and I cried out in protest. I rose up on shaky arms, heard Loki chuckle, and gritted my teeth. I could feel my release falling away, could feel this empty throbbing between my legs, but Loki only appeared vaguely amused at my displeasure as he rose up on his arms and crawled back over me. 

I wordlessly reached down to grasp the laces of his pants, but Loki grabbed my hands and gently chided me. “We’re not there yet, Stjarna.”

“What?” I said desperately.

He laughed again, leaned down to kiss me hard, and growled, “I want to enjoy this.”

The sultry tone of his voice only served to incite me and I did not speak again. Loki turned his head to kiss my jaw and neck, lightly tugging at my skin with his teeth. I closed my eyes, somewhat irked, but thought confidently that he would take mercy on me soon enough since I could feel his arousal pressing hard against me through his pants.

Loki rose up after a minute or so and I slowly opened my eyes—and my heart skipped a beat.

Without me even realizing it, Loki had, while kissing me, reached over and picked up the knife from the bedside table. It glinted silver in his hand and my insides twisted in nervous anticipation. I stared at it and then almost squeaked in fear when he put it against my temple.

“Loki—”

“Shh, darling,” he whispered, and suddenly the flat of the blade was pressed against my lips, effectively silencing me. Suddenly the release he had denied me no longer seemed so important. Loki smiled at me, though it was not a reassuring smile, and his eyes drifted down to the knife as he let the point graze my bottom lip. 

I kept my gaze fixed on his face, saw the way his eyes followed the blade as he trailed it lower. My heart sped up when he traced the column of my throat with the knife and I dared not even swallow. When Loki placed the tip at the hollow of my throat, I saw his lips twitch.

Even lower he drew it until he came to a stop at the low collar of my shift.

Loki’s eyes flickered up to meet mine just as he angled the knife and roughly dragged it down. I gasped and flinched as it sliced easily through the delicate fabric, fearing that Loki might accidentally cut me. Amazingly enough he did not, though I felt the tip of the blade scrape my skin all the way down to the spot between my legs. Panic flared inside me and, much to my alarm, something almost akin to excitement. 

Loki grinned impishly at me as he used the point of the knife to push back both sides of my torn shift, bit by bit revealing my naked body to him. I was breathing hard, chest heaving, and Loki cocked his head to briefly admire my breasts.

“That was not so bad, was it?” he teased, and I only murmured vaguely in response when he moved to support himself over me with one arm. My heart was still pounding in my chest, and I was hot all over from nervousness, but also could not deny how I was growing wetter by the second.

Loki placed the flat of the knife between my breasts and as before, I kept my eyes trained on his face. The tip of the blade was just barely digging into my flesh—not hard enough to break the skin, but certainly enough to leave a mark and encourage the bilious churning in my stomach. Loki moved the knife over until the point of it scraped against my nipple, and I held my breath as he languidly circled it. 

As Loki trailed the blade under my breast, he leaned down and kissed me gently on the mouth.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, and he brushed the tip of his nose against mine.

I wavered. Though I still felt nervousness, I reminded myself that Loki would not truly do anything to hurt me. After a long moment, I shook my head no. 

Loki smiled, clearly pleased, and kissed my cheek. “Good. Close your eyes for me.”

I slowly closed my eyes, attempting to suppress the panic I could feel rising in me once again, and squeezed my legs on Loki’s waist. I could feel how hard he was and knew that he was at least enjoying himself.

Loki rose back up and continued moving down my body with the knife. I whimpered and shifted on the bed when he pressed the point into my skin again. Now that my eyes were closed, every sensation he was subjecting me to seemed a hundred times intensified and I could not help but to slightly squirm on the bed.

I gripped the covers when Loki traced the blade over the gentle curve of my belly, and then tensed up when he weaved a lazy path through the curls at the top of my legs. I gave an involuntary little shiver, felt my skin dot in gooseflesh, and then let out a long, harried breath when he suddenly changed course and drew the tip up and down the crease of my thigh, which was wet with my arousal. 

“Loki,” I whispered uncertainly, finally lifting my head and opening my eyes, but it was not as if I was fooling him—to Loki it was painfully obvious that I was beyond aroused, despite my outward disinclination. One glance between my legs told him everything.

“Don’t you like it?” he purred. I watched as he raised the knife, saw that the edge of it was glistening with my desire. Loki opened his mouth and slowly ran the flat of his tongue along the side. He smiled and growled, “Oh, I know you like it…”

That was too much for me.

I sat up, reached out, and hooked my fingers into the top of his still-laced pants. I tugged at him, silently imploring him to get on with it, and the look in my eyes must have been enough for Loki. Without hesitation, he dropped the knife onto the bed beside me and reached down to hastily undo his laces. He tugged his pants down, freeing himself, and kicked them off and onto the floor.

I opened my legs wider and fell back as he settled on top of me. I put my hands on his back, lifted my legs to wrap around his slender waist, and grinned against his lips when he pushed his hips against me, letting me feel how aroused he was. Before I could reach between us to guide him into me, though, Loki tightened his hold on me and rolled us over. He pulled himself up so he was propped against the pillows at the head of the bed and I sitting astride him. 

I smirked at Loki, having already once again forgotten about the knife, and quickly shrugged out of my ruined shift, which hung uselessly from my shoulders. I could feel him hard and eager between my legs, but suddenly I wanted to get back at him for having denied me my release earlier. Instead of immediately taking him into me, as I am sure he was expecting, I pressed down on him and indolently rolled my hips.

Loki groaned and tilted his head back, slightly lifting his hips to mirror my movement. I grabbed his hands and put them on my thighs, letting him guide me as I moved on top of him, watching his face as I coated him in the wetness pooled between my thighs. 

Eventually I could not wait any longer and I lifted up to guide Loki into my body. I gradually took him in, expulsing a heavy breath of contentment as I sank down onto him. I circled my hips to get him in deeper and paused to relish the incredible sense of fullness.

I leaned forward and kissed Loki openmouthed, reaching up to tangle one hand in his mussed hair and splaying the other on his chest.

“Stjarna,” Loki breathed, moving his hands to my buttocks and attempting to pull me even closer.

He broke the kiss and buried his face in between my neck and shoulder, breaths coming hotly against my flushed skin. I braced one hand on the headboard behind Loki and moved the other to his shoulder before lifting up and dropping back down. Loki groaned and I faltered when he lifted his hands and dragged his nails down my back. He relaxed against the pillows as I began to ride him, chasing the release he had denied me earlier.

Occasionally I would circle my hips, or Loki would sit up to kiss or lick at my breasts before lying back down, and I turned my head once and caught a glimpse of Loki’s knife laying on the bed beside us. I thought that it had not been so bad. I certainly would not be opposed to it in the future if it was just that—Loki playing with it over my body, teasing me with it. For some reason I had expected more, but was not sure what that would have been.

But for now it was done and I could enjoy Loki without worry. I closed my eyes and lifted my head, letting everything else fade from my mind but the sounds of our mingled breaths, the feel of him under and inside me, filling me so completely. I was so caught up in what I was doing that I did not even notice Loki grab the knife for a second time.

My eyes flew open when I felt the cold metal against my thigh. What was he doing? Had we not finished with it?

I thought that he might just want to tease me with it again, and some part of me would not have resisted, but much to my surprise Loki lifted the knife and pushed it into my hand. I wrapped my fingers around it and looked at him oddly.

“Loki?”

What did he want me to do with it? He had already used it on me, what use was there for it now? 

Loki kissed my chest and said roughly, “I want you to cut me.”

I pulled back in disbelief. “What?”

Loki raised his head to meet my eyes; his pupils were blown wide, eyes darkened with desire. 

“Cut me,” he repeated, his voice low.

I glanced unsurely at the knife, but did not move.

He wanted me to cut him?

“Loki…”

“Please, Stjarna,” he breathed, desperately now, and he kissed my skin again.

I gave a little shake of my head, felt my hand slightly trembling. “I cannot cut you, Loki…”

He raised his head again and his gaze was fierce. “Stjarna, I want you to do this. Don’t you trust me? It’ll be alright…”

I almost wanted to laugh. Loki was asking me to cut him—to hurt him—in pursuit of pleasure, and yet it was him reassuring me. I did trust him, though, completely and unwaveringly, and so would do this for him, even if I did not understand why.

I nodded, my breaths coming more quickly now, and Loki kissed me encouragingly. I swallowed hard, pressed the blade tentatively against his skin, and carefully drew it across his chest. At first nothing happened—I realized I was not pressing hard enough—and knew I could not hurt him, but then his hand was on mine, guiding me, pushing harder, and I faltered when he groaned softly and I saw the crimson against the white of his skin.

“Loki—”

But he captured my lips in a kiss and he was still pressing, and our hands were still moving, and he did not tell me to stop, only whispered my name into my mouth. Loki’s fingers weakened on my hand and I dropped the knife and it fell onto the bed beside us; I looked down, saw his blood glistening darkly on the blade, some stray drops already soaking into the red beneath, and my heart leaped into my throat when I managed to tear my eyes away and stare at Loki’s chest.

There was a long, thin line beginning right below his right nipple and continuing up at an uneasy angle until it stopped at the end of his left collarbone. It was not a weeping wound, but I watched as these little scarlet beads dripped down, snaking their way down over his stomach.

“Loki…”

Before I could finish, Loki grabbed the back of my head and pulled me to him, kissing me fiercely on the mouth. He pressed against me and groaned—not from pain, it sounded, but rather desire—and I could feel his blood on my skin, sense this new vehemence in him.

I knotted my fingers in his hair and deepened the kiss, thrusting my tongue past his teeth. Beside us, my hand sought blindly for the knife, and I wrapped my fingers around it and lifted it. Sitting on top of Loki like this, with my fingers twisted in his hair and his knife in my hand, suddenly filled me with some sense of power. Usually it was Loki in charge, but tonight—for now—he had let me take control of him and I found myself rising to the challenge.

I broke the kiss with Loki, breathless, and flashed him a wayward grin. I placed the tip of the blade perhaps just an inch below the line of red on his chest and pressed it in. When I heard Loki’s breath hitch, saw the faint smile playing on his lips, I began to unhurriedly drag it across his pale skin. His hands fell down to my hips, and I thought I might be hurting him, but I knew now that he liked it, and gods, the way his fingers were digging into my flesh, the way his breath had nearly ceased and his body stiffened beneath me, incited in me some sort of fervency.

I kept my eyes fixed on Loki’s face as I lifted the knife and gently let the blade come to rest against his parted lips. I slowly drew it down over his chin and the column of his throat, leaving a thin trail of blood.

Suddenly, Loki’s grip tightened on my hips and I exclaimed when he lifted up and pushed me back. I fell backwards off of him onto the bed with a bounce, allowing the knife fall from my hand. Within seconds, he had fallen back over me and wrapped his fingers around my wrists, pinning my arms to the bed. I stared up at him, breaths coming heavily, saw the intensity in his gaze, and thought that now he was the one unquestioningly in control.

I closed my eyes when he lowered his head to kiss me. It was a deep, voracious kiss—Loki pushed my head down into the bed, pressed his hips against me, and I moaned into his mouth and lifted my hips, wanting desperately for him to be inside me again. When Loki broke the kiss, leaving me gasping, he turned his head to kiss my neck.

“Loki,” I whimpered, subtly twisting beneath him, trying to encourage him, but to no avail. As he kissed and sucked at my skin, ignoring my impassioned little pleas, I could feel his blood on me, mixing with the sweat beaded on my body. For some reason, the thought of that did not repulse me, but excited me, and the empty ache between my legs only grew more pronounced and I almost angrily bit his name out.

Instead of indulging me, though, Loki moved down my body. I was breathing hard and he was still holding my arms down and I arched my back when he pressed his lips to my chest. I moaned and squeezed my legs on his sides, felt his tongue sliding smoothly along my skin, knew he was licking his own blood off of me. I turned my head to the side and my mouth fell open when he moved to my breasts; he was sucking on me, using his tongue and teeth to tease and torment me, and I cried out and tried to twist beneath him when he bit me.

“Loki,” I gasped, attempting to raise my head. “Fuck me…”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Loki raised his head and the look in his eyes sent a rivulet of exhilaration through my body, straight to the spot between my legs. Hardly ever did I speak so rancorously, only when I was angry or beyond desperate, but Loki loved it when I did, and it was evident now. 

Loki lifted up, let go of one of my arms, and grabbed a fistful of my hair. He pulled on it, causing my neck to arch and my head to tilt back. As I put my free hand on his back, he kissed my cheek, and his hot breath ruffled my hair, and I could hear the raw, unadulterated desire in his voice.

“Say it again,” he growled.

“Fuck me, please…” I begged, twisting beneath him. I was so desperate for him to do it—there was this fire in my body, searing through my veins, burning me up from the inside, and I needed him inside me, needed him as close as possible and then even closer. I could not remember when last I had been in such agony for him, such frantic want.

“Loki,” I panted, and at the pathetic tone of my voice his eyes darkened even more. He reached between us with one hand and leaned down to kiss me at the same time. He licked my lips and I eagerly lifted up to kiss him back, moaned when I tasted his blood in my mouth.

Suddenly, I felt him at my entrance, and not a moment later he thrust into me. I gasped and arched my back, dragged my nails deeply across his skin, heard him groan into my mouth. Loki reached back to grab my wrist and for a second time completely pinned me down. I stared wide-eyed up at him, saw his parted lips and the points of his teeth behind, how they twitched upwards in a wicked smile when he ground his hips against me, moving deep inside me, and I whimpered and clenched my fists.

Loki, clearly taking great pleasure in torturing me, turned his head to lethargically kiss my neck. My legs were thrown wide open, slightly trembling on either side of him, and I knew he had to want it just as badly as me. He could hide it so well, though, and he only grinned when I said his name.

“You want me to fuck you?” he breathed, giving my earlobe a painful little nip. 

The fire in the pit of my stomach flared at his libidinous words, and I turned my head and our lips touched. 

“Please…” I implored.

Loki immediately let go of both my wrists and rose up, never taking his eyes off of me. I grabbed two fistfuls of sheets by my head as he hooked his arms beneath each of my legs and lifted them up until my calves were resting against the front of his shoulders and my ankles were by his ears. I groaned when he leaned down, stretching the muscles in my legs. The change in position had intensified the heat boiling in my lower half and I could feel this hot anticipation churning in the pit of my stomach. I was staring up at Loki’s face, lips parted, breaths coming quickly, and completely unable to move—completely at his mercy.

I opened my mouth to say something—perhaps it was his name, perhaps it was to urge him along—when he grinned, pulled nearly all the way out of me, and then drove his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt inside me. I squeezed my eyes shut and cried out, and then moaned and attempted to twist beneath him when he circled his hips against me.

“Loki,” I whined, tilting my head back and gripping the covers even more tightly.

And then he was pulling back out, pushing hard, beginning a short, hard rhythm. I was gasping, my breaths coming in shallow pants, as he pounded me into the soft bed. All I could hear were the sounds of our bodies coming together over and over, every gasp and every grunt, and all I could feel was this incessant and overwhelming pleasure shooting through my body, engulfing all my senses.

Loki’s fingers were digging into the bed on either side of me; his eyes were closed, lips drawn back and teeth gritted, brows furrowed, and his expression one of almost intense concentration. I rolled my head back, already so close to tumbling over that precipice, and allowed Loki to drag me further down into this ineffable pleasure.

I nearly screamed when I came, arching so hard that the muscles in my back strained. Loki continued thrusting into me, but no longer was the cadence of his hips so short or frantic; now his strokes were long and languid, and I cried out when the waves came again, even harder than before, and I made a sound like a long, low whine, saw stars bursting and felt tears stinging behind my eyelids.

Loki leaned down and pressed his mouth to mine, but I did not kiss him back—could not do anything in that moment but soundlessly delight in this ecstasy tearing through my body and flooding my mind, making everything so wonderful, so deliciously sensitive.

And Loki was still moving above me, still moving inside me, chasing his own release. He came not moments later, hips stuttering and a broken groan falling from his lips; he stopped moving above me and his body froze. His face was lifted up, eyes closed and mouth fallen open, brows furrowed in that sweet visage of euphoria. He spilled himself deep inside me, languorously moved in and out and made a soft sound in the back of his throat before letting his head drop.

After a long moment, Loki slowly opened his eyes to look down at me, breaths coming just as harshly and quickly as mine. He gently removed my legs from his shoulders and I groaned for how stiff they felt. I let them fall unceremoniously onto the bed as Loki lowered himself onto me. He pressed his face into my neck, attempting to catch his breath, and murmured my name and kissed my skin, began tenderly stroking my arm with his fingers.

Loki rolled us onto our sides and slipped out of me. I looked down at his chest and sluggishly traced the second cut I had made on his chest with my fingertip. I could feel the blood, not quite dried, and it stained my finger red. 

“Do you want me to heal you?” I asked, somewhat breathlessly.

“No,” he answered in a whisper. “Leave them.”

I let my hand drop onto the bed and Loki wrapped an arm around me. He pulled me close and kissed my nose and then my lips.

“Thank you, Stjarna,” he breathed, reaching up to push back some stray hairs stuck to my face.

I only grinned in response. Though it was over, I was already feeling drowsy. 

“Stjarna?”

“Mmm?”

Loki rubbed his nose against mine. “Did you like it?”

“Yes, I did,” I responded quietly.

“I did not frighten you, did I?” he laughed softly.

“Just at first,” I teased, reaching up to lightly touch his parted lips with my fingers. I could not help a little giggle when he unexpectedly stuck his tongue out and licked my fingertip. “I would do it again,” I then confessed, and took great pleasure in the way Loki’s face lit up.

“You would?”

“Yes,” I said, leaning forward to nip playfully at his bottom lip. “Perhaps next time we could go further…”

“Oh?” Loki cocked an eyebrow, and before I could reply, he pushed me onto my back and moved to straddle my waist. He looked down at me, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Now you’re starting to sound just as depraved as me, darling.”

“Nobody could be as depraved as you,” I countered, draping my arms over the back of his neck.

“You like it, though,” he whispered, lowering his head to gently kiss the side of my neck. 

I smirked to myself. “I will admit that your depravity is useful to me sometimes.”

He laughed at that and lifted back up. We gazed at one another for a long moment before Loki tilted his head and his expression softened.

“I love you, Stjarna,” he murmured.

I felt this burgeoning warmth spread through me at his words, complementing the sweet warmth still lingering in my body, and smiled.

“And I you.”


End file.
